


Again and Again

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [40]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt Stephen Strange, I'm Sorry, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Sad, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-07 19:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Stephen tried to focus on the scene in front of him, the serene sounds of nature going about its daily life, but those two words were echoing in his head obsessively."He's back."





	1. An Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot but I got inspired.

_He’s back_

   Stephen stood on the dock, staring out at the still water and the setting sun, slowly disappearing behind the long line of trees. The array of colours reflecting off the water was in a word; beautiful. The dock was stretching out onto a lake in a secluded woodland area, and Stephen had never been more grateful for the isolation. He tried to focus on scene in front of him, the serene sounds of nature going about its daily life, but those two words were echoing in his head obsessively. _He’s back_.

   He took a shaking breath, could already feel the phantom pain of a thousand deaths tingling along his skin, warning him of how bad it could be. His hands trembled, but for once it wasn’t because of the damage, no it was fear, the worst fear he had felt in a long time. The kind that left his knees weak, throat tight, and eyes stinging as he struggled not to cry.

   The Cloak tightened around him, its attempt at a comforting embrace and now Stephen did cry. His hands twisting painfully in the fabric to pull it closer around himself as he fell to his knees. The hard wood of the dock jolted him, but he embraced it, falling forward until his head was pressed to the wood, breath coming out in short gasps.

   “I can’t do it.”

   The Cloak couldn’t answer him, and that was exactly why he said it. He couldn’t go back until he got himself together but that suddenly didn’t seem possible, as the Cloak shivered around him in sympathy. It understood what was coming, it knew better then anyone else the weight that had been dropped onto his shoulders this afternoon.

\----

 

_He’s back_

   “Stephen I’m sorry.”

   He believed him. The pity in Wong’s face would be impossible to fabricate, the way he wouldn’t meet his eyes revealed he knew just how difficult it was for him to do this again. Stephen stared down at the Eye, sitting so inconspicuously in this dark, round room and he felt his gut twist. He must look a wreak, having spent nearly the entire night on the dock until he was able to drag himself to his feet, for better or for worse.

   “Don’t apologize Wong,” he sounded dead even to his own ears. “Its not your fault, its Mordo’s.”

   Wong said nothing, reaching out, lights sparking on the tips of his fingers as he picked up the Eye. Stephen could see the contemplation in the man’s face, saw the moment it crumpled into defeat as he held it out to Stephen. He felt like retching at just the thought of sliding it over his head. He didn’t move.

   “You know, nobody would blame you if you said no.”

   Stephen levelled him with stormy eyes, “you mean nobody would be alive to blame me.”

   Wong frowned but didn’t disagree, he held out the Eye.

   He reached out, body stiff and aching as he took the strings of the necklace and slowly bowed his head to place it around his neck. The heavy weight settled against his chest and he all but crumpled inside, the feeling of absolute despair overwhelming him in that second.

   He opened his eyes, Wong’s own expression was pained as he nodded at him, “you have a few more hours until Dormammu is close enough to engage. What can I do for you?”

   Stephen hated how his voice shook, “nothing, I need to say goodbye to Tony.”

   Wong frowned, “Stephen, you _will_ survive this, you know that right?”

   “We’d better hope I do or else the world is screwed right?” Stephen tried to joke weakly.

   Wong shook his head, gaze suddenly fierce, “you _will_. You’ve done it before and you will do it again, if there is anyone, we can believe in its you.”

   Stephen’s eyes fluttered closed, “its not surviving I’m worried about Wong.”

   A warm hand on his shoulder shocked Stephen, his body still not used to touch since his last long encounter with Dormammu, “you won’t be alone, remember that. Stark, Peter, me, even Christine will be waiting back here for you. We will help you through it.”

   Emotion welled up inside Stephen, but he didn’t dare let it out. There would be plenty of time for a breakdown later. For now, he needed to see Tony, to say goodbye. “I have to go.”

   Wong released him without another word.

\----

_He’s back_

   When Stephen arrived at the penthouse, he was relieved to find it empty but for Tony, studiously tapping away at his tablet on the couch. The man was prone on Friday nights to be entertaining other Avengers, Pepper, or the occasional old acquaintance, none of whom Stephen was up for making small talk with.

   Tony looked up, apparently sensing his silent presence. He was in pajamas, though Stephen doubted he would be sleeping tonight, not anymore. His hair was dishevelled which was a telltale sign that he had been working on something new, that and his glasses. God, he was going to miss this man.

   Tony smiled up at him, head tilted slightly in confusion, “Stephen? I thought you couldn’t come tonight?” He was already setting aside the tablet, his glasses, eyes roaming over him with a happy glint that Stephen hated to diminish.

   “Yeah I know…just I’m sorry….something has come up.”

   He saw the smile fade instantly, a familiar weariness falling over him as he switched into caring fixer mode, Stephen really wished he could fix this. Tony patted the couch next to him, a clear invitation.

   Stephen went on shaky legs, his eyes stinging again. He sat and the Cloak, who had been his constant companion since getting the news, popped off his shoulders, giving him privacy. Tony immediately reached out and gripped one of his hands while his leg began to shake with anxiety, Stephen barely contained a grimace.

   “Alright Stephen, tell me what’s up cause you are making me really nervous right now.”

   Stephen turned bodily toward him, reveling in the warmth of the hand holding his. He took a deep breath then leaned in, pressing his lips to Tony’s who let out a startled little gasp. Stephen didn’t care, wanted this so badly before he left, before he changed. His free hand slid into Tony’s hair, holding him still well his tongue pushed into Tony’s mouth, who relented to his hold with a sigh.

   Before long, however, Tony was pulling back, face flushed and breath heavy as he looked at Stephen with soft confusion. Stephen wanted to cry, he was terrified, didn’t know how to tell Tony, a man who believed he could fix anything that he may never see him like this again.

   “Yeah,” Tony said, brows furrowed. “Definitely scaring me now love.”

   Stephen took a deep breath, forced his voice to be steady as he looked into Tony’s dark concerned eyes.

   “Do you remember what I told you about Dormammu?” The words tasted of poison as he shaped them with his tongue. Tony went rigid instantly, as if locking down for impact. He jaw clenched and his gaze turned piercing even as Stephen forced himself to continue, to say the dreaded words knocking around his head all day. “He’s back.”

   Tony was on his feet in a heartbeat, hand being ripped away from Stephen’s, making his heart sink for a moment. His back was to him, but his shoulders moved with what seemed to be heavy breaths. Stephen waited, there was really nothing else he could do.

   After several long minutes, Tony spun toward him again, expression hard and unwavering, “No.” He stated vehemently.

   Stephen shook his head, “I didn’t come here for a discussion Tony, this is already happening.”

   “Then why are you here at all?” he snapped, a storm building in his eyes. “Did you want my fucking blessing or something? Because it is not happening. I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

   Stephen took a steadying breath, met Tony angry and scared eyes with his own, “there isn’t another option Tony.”

   He shook his head rapidly, desperation seeping into his voice, “no, there is, there always is. This is just more of your sacrificial crap.”

   “Tony this is a last resort. There is no reality in which I would do this again willingly if….” His voice cracked, and he stopped, fingers twisting anxiously in his sleeves.

   “Stephen.”

   He almost couldn’t bear to look up hearing the utter heartbreak in his voice. When he did though, it was so much worse, his eyes were tearing up and that desperation was giving way to panic, he stumbled forward and fell to his knees with a solid thump in front of Stephen, his hands coming up to tightly grip his thighs, “how much time do we have? Tell me what to do.”

   Stephen’s hands came up to rest over Tony’s, his eyes were pleading with him and it hurt, it hurt so god damn much, “just listen to what I’m about to say.”

   Tony’s face crumpled, no so unlike Wong’s earlier and Stephen felt his heart beat faster, the tears stinging his eyes, the struggle to push his words out. He focused his gaze behind Tony, avoiding the pain he knew was reflected in his own.

   “I want you know that I love you,” the grip on his thighs tightened harshly. “But I don’t know how long it will take this time, and I don’t know what kind of man I’ll be when I get back…. how damaged,” he faltered there, swallowed thickly before continuing. “It’ll be like a minute has passed for you, but for me….” He faltered again.

   Warm hands were cupping his cheeks then, thumbs wiping away tears he didn’t know were falling, Tony’s face rising in front of him, “don’t.” he warned, already sensing what Stephen had been trying to do. “I don’t care if you come back missing limbs or catatonic. You don’t get to tell me to leave you over this.” Her whispered fiercely.

   “Tony,” it was Stephen’s turn to be desperate. “I might not be _me_. I can’t give you what you need or want-”

   He was cut off abruptly by Tony’s hands tightening drastically, his forehead resting against his, “I. Don’t. Care. You were by my side through all my shit, what makes you think I’ll do any different for you?”

   Stephen’s eyes fluttered closed as a wave of exhaustion moved through him, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He said thickly.

   Tony’s breath was ghosting across his skin, heads still pressed together, “I know, I just…. everything in body is telling me to save you right now. You are the most important thing I’ve ever had the honor of loving and you just fucking appear one night and tell me you have to go and face this thing all alone?” He took a shuddering breath and Stephen didn’t need to open his eyes to know he was crying. “this is what I was always afraid of, magic stealing you away.”

   Stephen let one of his hands slide into Tony’s hair, focused all his attention on just the feel of him, his warmth, his skin, his love, “if I don’t do this everyone dies, including you. I won’t let that happen.”

   “It shouldn’t be like that, I don’t want to trade the world for you. I can’t stand it, you are going out there all alone. Fuck, what is the point of being a hero when I can’t save you?”

   Stephen peeled back his eyes to see Tony’s already open and looking into his as though drinking up his appearance one last time. He smiled sadly, continued to run his hands through Tony’s hair, “because heroes aren’t supposed to be saved Tony, its in our job description, we fight, we hurt, we die, but we don’t get saved.”

   A sob broke through then, Tony’s arms wrapping around Stephen, pulling him tightly into his hold as though it is the last time, they will ever be able to do so, and Stephen thinks it is. Remembers how much he hated to touch after the first time with Dormammu, how he would flinch at every offered hand, every soul who stood too close.

   Tony’s breath was heavy on his neck, the moisture from Tony’s tears wetting his skin and making his own emotions well up. But he couldn’t break down now, not until it was over, then he could do that in droves.

   “Tell me what to do Stephen,” came Tony’s wet plea.

   He knew Tony was begging for a way to fix this, but that was impossible, so he just tugged until Tony was back on the couch, laying down with him properly, every inch of their bodies touching, “just hold me, please. Just let me feel you.”

\----

   Three hours later and Stephen was standing next to Wong, eyes on the spot where they were to make the portal. Distress calls were already rising from London as Dormammu began his old trick, not so intensely this time of course, he was waiting for Stephen.

   Tony was in the next room, certainly pacing with anxiety and Stephen couldn’t help a twinge of guilt at the thought. But he had to tell him, there was no way to hide the state he would be in. The Cloak settled on his shoulders, having been flitting around the room for the past hour or so and a weak smile stretched across his lips, as his fingers twisted gently in the fabric, which squeezed back. He wouldn’t be completely alone, he wouldn’t be the only one in pain.

   “Its time.” Wong murmured, voice tight.

   Stephen didn’t move, continued to stare at the wall. Then, without granting his mind permission the words he had been keeping to himself all day slipped out, “I’m scared Wong.”

   In his peripheral the man nodded, “I know. But I think…. I think you know by now it means that what you are about to do is important, that it is right. That is why you are here, despite the terror.”

   “I know its right. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Tony, for you, for Peter. But…. I’m worried that whoever I become after, will care less about that. I’m worried that if I don’t kill Mordo, or someone else brings back Dormammu, I won’t be able to give a damn the next time, I won’t be able to see the good in the world.”

   Wong’s hand landed on his shoulder and this time Stephen leaned into it, “you have a bright soul Strange, and I vow to you now, that should this dim its light, I and no doubt Stark, will dedicate our lives to bringing it back. To reminding you about all that is good in the world even when you can only see bad.”

   Stephen’s eyes fluttered closed, “thank you.”

   His fingers moved, his resolve steeled for pain, for anguish, for another fight of his life. And when he found himself floating up through a familiar dark whole and staring into sickening violet eyes and wicked grin, he swallowed back the nausea and horror that rose within him as he uttered the words he used as both a promise and a threat.

   “Dormammu I’ve come to bargain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :)


	2. A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen comes back and he isn't the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it got away from me.  
> Also the response to the first chapter had been amazing! Sorry I didn't have the chance to answer all the comments but I'm glad everyone has been enjoying!

   Tony sat in one of the familiar armchairs that decorated the Sanctuary, hands clenching repeatedly into the thick fabric of the arms. His entire body ached with the struggle to restrain himself, to keep from walking into the other room and dragging Stephen back into his arms, to hide him away from this horror, kept safe and sound.

   Still, his mind spun with the speed of which everything went wrong. His eyes fluttered closed as he bit into his lip hard, reveling in the way the pain cleared his head for a moment, yanked him back from the edge of despair he had been dancing on since Stephen showed up, pale and trembling.

   Voices drifted from the other room, quiet and indistinct but for Stephen’s low baritone and Tony held back a sob. He had no right to break down, not when Stephen was about to face the worst and most terrifying creature of his life and was doing it with his typical silent strength. But it hurt and it sucked, and Tony couldn’t deny the accompanying anger coursing through his veins in this very moment, at the world for being so unfair, at magic, at Wong, at this Dormammu and Mordo, and all the fucking Masters. Why did it have to be Stephen? Why did it have to be a man who deserved it least of all?

   Footsteps and Tony peeled back his eyelids, blinked in the dim light that fit their somber mood so conveniently. Wong entered, expression grim and decidedly upset, it did nothing to sooth Tony, as he watched him make his way to the opposite chair and sit down heavily.

   “How long?” Tony asked tightly.

   Wong ran a hand over his face, “I would guess about five minutes.”

  “For us.”

   “Yes.”

   “For Stephen?”

   Wong winced, his eyes meeting Tony’s, “its difficult to say, but at minimum it will be as though he lived the moment a hundred times.”

   Something in Tony snapped, a razor thin wire that had been strung too tightly and his hands clenched into fists, his nails biting harshly into the skin there, “Why him Wong?  Dozens of old and experienced Masters, you would think there would be _one_ , just _one_ that could take it for the team.”

   Wong slumped, and this was the most emotion he had ever seen in the man and all Tony could think, was _good, at least he’s hurting too._ Wong’s eyes shifted until they weren’t looking directly at him, he took a shuddering breath.

   “In theory, the Eye belongs to Stephen, it has chosen him, and he is talented enough with it to effectively hold the spell throughout all of his…. deaths. He also has an iron will and has proved himself capable of withstanding whatever tortures are thrown at him by the entity.” Tony’s blood began to boil, he sat forward in his chair a snarl already working its way up his throat. But then Wong’s eyes landed on his and Tony was left speechless at the anger so hot and volatile as his own making a home there. “But the truth is, it is Stephen because they are cowards, the lot of them. We might be Sorcerers Stark, but we are still irreversibly human and the thought of willingly doing this, of subjecting themselves to that pain was incomprehensible to them.”

   “Yet, Stephen is doing so without a complaint.”

   Wong nodded, “yes, the Master’s are old and see themselves as irreplaceable because of their expertise. For all Stephen’s power he is still new to the craft, still dispensable and they would do anything to save themselves from this experience, from failure.”

   Tony tensed, and Wong seemed to be right there with him, “It doesn’t make it right and I know that. I swear to you Stark, if I truly believed I could face Dormammu and win, I would have been the first to volunteer.”

   Tony believed him, if for no other reason then the man seemed to know more intimately then anyone how difficult this would be for Stephen, after all, he had been here the first time. He forced himself to ask the question circling around in his head, knowing, even now, that he dreaded the answer.

   “How bad was it? How long did it take for him to…be himself again?”

   Wong shook his head a little, “I hadn’t known Stephen very well the first time, we were but acquaintances but even I know he has never really been himself since.”

   Tears stung Tony’s eyes, “explain, please? I need to know what to expect.”

   The other man’s eyes flickered to the doorway, but if he was searching for escape or Stephen, Tony didn’t know. Regardless, he sighed a little, seemed to brace himself, “listen Stark, it won’t…it won’t be obvious. Stephen values his pride above most things and he isn’t one to bend easily to this kind of experience. Especially after the first time, and the futures he saw on Titan, he knows what to expect and has tools to calm himself down.”

   “But?” Tony prompted, wanting him to just get to the point.

   “But, he has a tendency to close himself off. He will want space, he won’t want to talk about it, and he will be ashamed of his inability to have the same kind of interactions with you as before.”

   Stephen’s words floated up in his mind of only a few hours before, _I might not be me. I can’t give you what you need or want._ It was bullshit of course, there was no world, even after only dating for a year now, that Stephen wouldn’t always be everything he could possibly want in life. Still, the discomfort on Wong’s face made his stomach clench painfully, “care to expand on that last point?”

   Wong frowned, as though contemplating how to explain, “have you noticed Stephen’s reaction to touch?”

   Tony blinked, beyond the fact that his boyfriend was extremely tactile? Nothing usual. Stephen loved to slip into his space, was always leaving a hand on his back or shoulder. Tony had quickly learned how favourably Stephen reacted to small touches in public and deliberate touches in private, even something as simple as wrapping his arm around his lover would make him close his eyes with a soft smile, “yeah, he likes to be touched?”

   Wong nodded, his eyes intent, “by you or Peter or Christine certainly, by people he trusts explicitly. Have you noticed how he responds to strangers? Or crowded situations?”

   Tony cast his mind back, attempting to dredge up memories of parties, rarely attended by his lover. He quickly realized that Stephen hardly reacted at all because nobody he didn’t trust touched him, not even accidentally. He remembers now the grace with which he could weave through a crowd, even of stumbling drunks and not a one would get near him. He recalls how in meetings past, the government members, the other Avengers might offer a hand for a shake and Stephen would expertly deflect, something he hadn’t thought about much. Then there were the pats on the back, post battle when the Cloak would flare up subtly, so it never landed directly against Stephen, he wouldn’t even feel it. Tony had always assumed the Cloak was being overprotective, and now he realized it was, on Stephen’s orders.

   Wong saw the realization on his face and offered a sad little smile, Tony felt like he was going to be sick, how had he not noticed before? Once again, as if reading his mind Wong interrupted the thought, “he didn’t want you to know Stark, his pride wouldn’t allow it.”

   Tony took several steadying breaths, “what does that mean for this time?”

   Wong began fiddling with the sleeves of his tunic while his eyes grew unfocused as though remembering the last time Stephen had faced Dormammu, “his mind and body are going to be in a whirlwind of mixed signals and emotions. He won’t want anyone to touch him, his natural instinct being that it will cause pain, no matter who is doing it. Yet, after spending so long with Dormammu, he will also be touch-starved, craving a gentle touch, human contact, anything.”

   Tony stared at him helplessly, “then what do I do?”

   “We don’t leave him alone, that is all we _can_ do.”

\----

   It took longer then five minutes and Tony didn’t know if he was relieved by every minute that passed without destruction raining down on the earth or distressed that Stephen hadn’t returned yet. It didn’t help that Wong was growing increasingly anxious as well, his eyes darting to the large grandfather clock, standing at attention in the corner of room.

   Finally, when the minute clock had just ticked onto ten minutes there was a large thump from the other room, making both men jump up. Not a second later and Stephen’s voice cried out frantic and strained.

   Tony had never moved so fast, following directly behind Wong and into the room, where they found Stephen, one hand braced against the wall and the other pressed to his face while he took several heaving breaths. The sight made Tony stop dead, his stomach twisting as he looked at Stephen, hunched over and being hugged tightly by the Cloak. Tony’s eyes ran over him quickly, searching for injuries before his mind caught up and he remembered that all his scars would be in his brain, not on his body.

   “Stephen?” Wong asked gently.

   His hand fell away revealing his pale face, darting eyes that landed immediately on Tony, feeling horribly inadequate he tried to offer a small, comforting smile, tried to show him it was alright. Stephen’s expression, however, remained startlingly blank, an emptiness invading his usually bright eyes. Tony’s breath caught.

   Stephen’s eyes shifted to Wong, who was standing but a few feet away, a carefully calculated distance. Stephen stared at him a moment and then there it was, the first crack in the cool exterior he seemed to be clinging to, “I’m sorry.” His voice trembled.

   Tony moved forward without thinking, froze when Stephen gave a full-bodied flinch and the Cloak sprung off his shoulders to hang defensively next to him. He raised his hands slowly, kept that same small smile on his lips, worked hard to keep his voice soothing, “love, you have nothing to be sorry for. Its alright, you stopped him, you saved us.”

   Pain sprung up in Stephen’s eyes, and Tony almost missed the blankness. His hand slid off the wall and he stood up straighter, watched as he constructed a wall that was horribly familiar in an attempt not to appear so vulnerable.

   “Wong, I didn’t do it. I…he wouldn’t take the bargain.”

   Silence fell over them, Stephen looking guilty while he and Wong stared at him in confusion. Hell wasn’t raining down on them which suggested he had in fact stopped Dormammu, so who then was he talking about? Wong wasn’t saying anything, too busy looking puzzled for once, leaving Tony to try again.

   “Hey, no. What are you talking about? Dormammu is gone, the world isn’t ending.” Tony hated how desperately he wanted to gather him into his arms, reassure his lover.

   Stephen shook his head, a tad frantically, “no, not Dormammu, Mordo. He left but he wouldn’t take Mordo with him. I think he was long gone by the time I got there.”

   A hiss escaped Wong’s lips making Stephen flinch and Tony stare in shock, never seeing such a volatile reaction from the usually stoic man. Wong’s hands clenched into fists at his side, eyes dark with anger, “That isn’t your fault Stephen. The man is a coward and couldn’t stand to watch what he had done to the world, to you, no matter how strong his conviction.” He levelled Stephen with a ferocious gaze. “I promise you, he will not breath another day as a free man. I will gather some Sorcerer’s from Kamar-Taj, I doubt he will have gone far.”

   While Tony was all for that plan, his own mind eager for vengeance on a man that seemed to have brought nothing but pain and horror for Stephen, he couldn’t help the swell of panic at the prospect of Wong abandoning him here with Stephen.

  Tony didn’t know what he was expecting, but Stephen was defying his worst assumptions. The Cloak hovered protectively by his side, yet besides the paleness and the shaking Stephen was standing on his own two feet, pain-filled eyes steady. That did _not_ mean, however, that he knew what to do from here, and the admission hurt Tony, fixer that he was.

   “Do it. Now Wong, don’t waste any time.”

   Tony blinked in surprised. Thought Stephen would want him to stay as well, something that was erased by the determination in his expression and Wong’s solemn nod. Then Tony understood, intimately, this was personal on a whole other level then a simple betrayal. This ex-sorcerer had tried to use Stephen’s greatest weakness against, at the threat of the whole world. The man was no longer trying to eradicate magic, he was desperate enough to simply eradicate the world. It couldn’t be delayed.

   Wong turned on his heel, walked straight up to Tony. Without pausing he lent in, lips moving almost silently against his ear, “don’t let him be alone. He’s going to feel lost, put him to bed but don’t expect him to sleep. Don’t get in the way of the Cloak, don’t ask questions, suggest he summon food and drink but don’t leave to get it for him” he paused, and Tony blinked rapidly as he tried to remember every word. His next words were impossibly quieter, his tone a strange mix of warmth and steel. “Remind him you love him, remind him how important what he has done is, remind him who he is.”

   Wong turned away, looked at Stephen, now leaning hard against the wall with the corner of the Cloak twisted in his one hand, “I’ll be back shortly, don’t forget when you are, remember our exercises.”

   Stephen nodded even as an embarrassed blush came over his cheeks. Wong began to make a portal only to be interrupted by Stephen’s suddenly panicked voice. They both winced when his trembling fingers encircled the Eye and he yanked it off harshly, breaking the chain without a care for how raw it must have felt on his neck. He tossed it to Wong, who caught it without a word and even Tony could see the way his whole body slumped in relief. The librarian left without another word.

   They were left alone, eyes watching each other wearily. It broke Tony’s heart to see the glint of unease in Stephen’s gaze, the one he knew meant he expected Tony to leave. He wasn’t going anywhere whether is lover liked it or not. He took a heavy breath, “are you tired?”

   Stephen raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Tony couldn’t help but snort, something easing in both of them. “That a yes sweetheart?”

   Stephen ran a hand over his face, “how do you think you would feel after spending nearly a thousand years being pummeled by a cosmic entity?” his tone was a sickening mix of his usual sarcasm and something oh so fragile.

   If Tony was honest, it was completely unsettling. In their relationship it had always been Tony breaking down, waking up screaming from nightmares, drinking an inappropriate amount of alcohol and Stephen was the rock. He had been Tony’s pivoting point since the beginning when he strayed to far in either direction, he knew Stephen would be there, stable, unwavering in his loyalty and affection. To see Stephen’s attempt to be that person when he was hurting so bad was perhaps the worst thing Tony had ever watched.

   “Right, bed then.”

   Stephen flinched, the Cloak twisting further up his arm, “I won’t be able to sleep.”

   “I know,” Tony murmured. “But you should still lay down, you look exhausted.”

   Stephen slumped, his eyes darting from Tony to the staircase, unease once again obvious on his face. It Tony a minute to get it but when he did, he wanted to cry. Slowly he made his way toward the stairs, heard Stephen following in near silence, he had wanted Tony to go first, afraid of how close he might walk up behind him. They moved to the second floor, an air of awkwardness between them, which Tony was determined to dispel.

   As they made their way into the room, Tony immediately busied himself with the fireplace, closing the curtains. Tony knew Stephen well enough to be aware that he would hate to be treated like some delicate flower, like anything was wrong at all, but that didn’t change the fact that he needed someone right now, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

   When he looked over, it was to find Stephen seated on the edge of the bed, back to him, Cloak draped over his shoulders after having expanded to the size of a blanket. Tony swallowed thickly, made sure to take solid steps announcing his movements as he came around to face his lover. The sight stopped him cold.

   Tears were snaking down his cheeks, eyes blank and unseeing, hands clutching the Cloak shaking hard, shoulders heaving with heavy breaths. Tony clenched his jaw when the urge to hold Stephen washed through him, to the point that it was almost physically painful. He forced himself to sit in the chair only four feet from the bed, leaned forward to alleviate the strain in his soul to get closer.

   “Stephen? Love, you are in the Sanctuary, with me. Hey I’m right here.” He tried to sooth, tried to hide his own shaky voice.

   “You should go.”

   Tony blinked in surprise, “What was that love?”

   His wet eyes flickered up, filled to the brim with anguish, “I said leave. Right now, I don’t want you here.”

_He doesn’t mean it_ , Tony reminded himself. It was a phrase he often muttered in the midst of his own crises, whenever he felt horribly vulnerable, and he remembered never once meaning it when he yelled at his friends, at Stephen. He took a heavy breath, “I know, I’m sorry but I’m not leaving.”

   “ _Why?”_ His tone was confused and earnest in a way that made Tony wince.

   “Because I love you,” he said tightly. “I don’t want you to be afraid to breakdown in front of me, there is _nothing_ you could do to make me leave you right now.”

   Stephen seemed to only curl further into himself, scarred fingers wiping away the tears even as more fell and fucking hell Tony had never felt more helpless, useless then he did right now.

   Stephen mumbled something, and Tony leaned in further, noted how the Cloak seemed to stiffen some and he moved back an inch or two, barely on the edge of his chair, “I didn’t catch that.”

   Stephen’s head lifted some, “I’m exhausted but I’m scared of what I’ll see when I close my eyes.”

   The admission warmed Tony, he knew how difficult it was to make, “its alright, I’ll be right here to wake you if you have a nightmare, I won’t touch, I’ll just call your name.”

   Stephen looked at him with such gratefulness in his red eyes that it was physically painful, then silently, without a word he lowered himself tentatively down, until he could rest his head on the pillow, the Cloak shifting to cover his body protectively. His eyes maintained a steady gaze on Tony and as he settled back into the armchair, he didn’t dare remove his own from his lover. He would not leave this spot for as long as Stephen needed, more then willingly to watch over him while he sleeps. If Tony couldn’t save him from Dormammu, the least he could do was save him from his nightmares.

\----

   Stephen let his eyelids slide back as he blinked into the darkness. The light of the fireplace had dimmed considerably in the last hour and it left shadows dancing over Tony’s tired and drained face. He had fallen asleep not long after he thought Stephen had, but of course he hadn’t, there would be no sleeping, not in the near future.

   Stephen kept his eyes on Tony, as he strained to hold back the torrent of images haunting his brain, creeping ever closer. He knew he was shaking, could feel the phantom aches covering his entire body from its abuse, after all, one did not simply forget how it felt to be flayed alive. It was as though every nerve in his body was tense and waiting for the next sting of pain, as though they no longer knew how to live without it. Nausea began to rise up his throat and he swallowed it back on a sob, hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Tears began to blur his vision and he wiped at them angrily, needed to focus on Tony, because if Tony was here then he was safe, and wouldn’t hurt anymore.

   Of their own volition his eyes fell on Tony’s hand, hanging off the edge of the armchair. He felt all twisted up inside, his mind and body yearning for different things leaving him confused and terrified, the worst feeling he had ever dealt with. The moment he had returned Stephen had wanted nothing more then to walk into Tony’s arms, the safest place he knew, yet when he actually laid eyes on him all he could think about was the pain, the crawling over his skin as it waited for the next blow. He hadn’t been able to bare it and the shame that brought him was worse then any nightmare he now had to fight off.

   Stephen bit his lip, eyes glued to that hand. He could practically feel the wariness of the Cloak as one of his hands slipped out from beneath its protective embrace. Slowly, painfully slow, Stephen began to stretch the limb towards that hand, yearning for the warmth of another soul. His breath caught as his fingertips stopped mere centimeters from the back of his hand. His arm was trembling badly, his stomach was twisting sickly, tears were blurring his eyes again, his body was locked down waiting for impact.

   He took a shaky breath, closed the distance and then his fingers were skating lightly against his hand, barely touching at all. For a split second he lost control of himself, the image of Dormammu breaking one bone at a time flashing through his head and he pulled back instantly with a gasp. He blinked rapidly, eyes back on Tony’s slumbering form, his familiar face, _this man would never hurt me_ , he reminded himself over and over.

   Stephen didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, when his heart went back to beating its usual rhythm, he found himself trying again, ever a glutton for punishment. This time when his hands skated over the back of Tony’s hand he focused on the warmth, kept his eyes on his lover’s face. He felt in that light touch, the first tendril of comfort. He wouldn’t be able to do this if Tony was awake, he knew, the situation too unpredictable. But this, this he could do, this he could have for himself. It would have to be enough, for now.

   Stephen laid there most of the night, wide awake and gently touching, every pass of his fingers down his hand feeling like a promise for the future, a promise that as much as it hurt right now, as much as he hated every breath he drew, every dark and threatening memory fighting in his mind, he still had Tony, he still had his hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought? Opinions? Criticism? Let me know :)  
> Might add more one day to this verse, but I have other projects to finish first.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
